A Life of Lies
by sarahandmarquis
Summary: One-Shot. E/C. Raoul takes Christine, Erik's widow, into his home and raises their child. (HAPPY ENDING) COMPLETE
It was a cold winter day when Raoul walked by the Rue Scribe entranced and stopped to look at the seemingly seamless piece of stone. It cut him to look at this as it was a reminder of all the lies that surrounded him.

All because of _him._

All because of that Phantom.

Raoul shook his head to clear it and hurried on. It wouldn't work to dwell on such sad thoughts. It wasn't worth ruining another Christmas by thinking of the corpse that lay five stories beneath his feet.

Besides, his wife and daughter waited for him. Oh, but they were another part of the lie.

Everyone knew in their heart of hearts that Annabelle wasn't Christine and Raoul's daughter. How could such a black haired, golden eyed beauty come from two blond haired blue eyed people? Besides, she looked nothing like either of them. Thin and pale – when sleeping too hard, she was sometimes thought dead due to her color. The only thing of Christine's she had was her nose. That pretty little nose. Her father had had no nose to offer her so her mother's was the only option.

Naturally, Christine and Raoul pretended and said that they were traits that some ancestors had. People pretended to believe it and never mentioned it.

After all, they were married and perhaps as a worker at the Opera Populaire, Christine had been a little loose with her morals and everyone thought Raoul madly in love to have married her.

But, the truth was, their whole life was a lie. Christine was no loose woman, Annabelle wasn't Raoul's little daughter, and Christine and Raoul weren't married.

Christine sat in the drawing room, looking up at the tree and smiling slightly as Annabelle ran around like the happy little eight year old she was.

She closed her eyes and sighed unhappily. Her mind reflexed the Christmases in the past when her Angel had sung to her and played for her and spent time with her.

Now, he was gone.

He'd been gone for almost nine years. Nine years since she'd heard the silken voice, nine years since she'd held the skeletal hand, nine years since she'd been cocooned in his cold arms. What she wouldn't give to return to them!

She had warmed him with her body heat the one night she had laid beside him. The night her daughter had been conceived. He had demanded she leave him when morning came and she had been unable to refuse him. Raoul, who had waited though he knew well what was going on, took her home and cared for her.

They both knew there was no romantic love between them but they were both good enough actors for pretend they were fond of each other. Raoul decided marriage would be best because Christine was a compromised woman but she knew her heart was long lost to the corpse beneath the Opera House. So, it was a fake marriage. They went on a trip and returned "married". Fake documents and announcements declared them wed but it was all a farce.

Raoul had done a gentlemanly thing and owned Annabelle as his own though he had never once in his life slept with Christine. She could bear to let him into her bed. They shared different rooms ever since she had come to live with him.

Everyone wondered why she hadn't conceived after Annabelle but Raoul had lied for her and said that due to the rough pregnancy they had decided not to try for a son. True, she had had a rough pregnancy but that wasn't the reason at all that there wasn't a male de Chagny heir.

The door into the drawing room opened and she barely glanced up. She knew well who it was.

"Good evening, Raoul." She whispered as Annabelle ran to greet her "daddy".

"Good evening, Christine." He replied as he hugged his "daughter" and sat down beside his "wife". "Did you have a nice day?" He asked politely, taking note of her pale face and forlorn expression. It was obvious she hadn't. Memories haunted her like they did every Christmas. It wasn't a good time of year for his Little Lotte. It never was.

Christine ignored his polite attempt at small talk and instantly asked,

"Can we please tell her? Please?" She asked every year without fail since Annabelle's fifth birthday to tell her about her real father. Raoul had said no every time. He believed Annabelle was too young while Christine believed the girl was very much like her father and could handle the odd story.

Raoul thought for a moment and looked at the eight year old. His "daughter" was old for her age. She had always acted older and perhaps she could handle the story.

"Very well. You may tell her." He said as looked over at Annabelle. She would no doubt ask for a story soon. Just before she always went to bed she did. Like clockwork, Annabelle ran over and looked up at her "parents".

"Mama, Father, would you please tell me a story?" She asked as she looked more at her mother. She had always enjoyed her mother's stories more for some reason.

Christine looked at Raoul and he nodded slightly. She looked down at her daughter.

"I have a new story to tell you this time, Belle." She said softly as she shifted the girl into her lap. Annabelle's eyes were wide as she looked at her mother, waiting for the story to begin. Her mother thought for a moment before beginning,

"Once there was a young woman. She was beautiful or at least two young men thought so. One was her teacher, an older man with many talents, who was quite mad with love for her. The other was her childhood friend who believed himself in love with her. She was quite a thoughtless girl without a care for anyone else other than herself and so she choose the younger man, thinking that he could make her happier. But, he didn't. It was a love of friends they shared. Nothing deeper."

At this point, Christine made eye contact with Raoul and he saw her heart breaking all over again. She took a deep breath and continued,

"The teacher grew quite furious at her choice, unable to comprehend losing her. He threatened to kill her young man and almost did but the stupid girl finally realized, only a few minutes before it was too late, that she did love her teacher in a way totally different then she loved her young man. She choose her teacher and he spared the life of her young man. That night the young woman showed her teacher how much she loved him but in the morning he sent her away –"

Before Christine could continue, Annabelle piped up,

"Why would he send her away? She choose him! Wouldn't he want to keep her with him?" Christine's eyes showed every shattered piece of her heart as she said,

"He was a very sick man and knew he was going to die soon. He didn't want her there when he died. He made her promise to come back and bury him though. She did that and she and her young man married. Sometime later, she had a child. A child who looked just like her teacher. A little girl with black hair and golden eyes."

Annabelle thought for a moment then said,

"The little girl had the eyes very much like mine." Christine nodded and Annabelle resumed thinking. Her brow creased and then she said,

"The man who plays the violin for me every night has the same colored eyes." She said thoughtfully before running off to her room. Annabelle had always been one to say odd things but this shocked Christine and Raoul.

"The man who plays the violin for her?" Christine whispered as she looked over at Raoul. Both of they were pale with the thought that someone was in their "daughter's" room.

"What are we to do?" Raoul asked quietly as he gently took Christine's hand. Even as he asked, he saw a bit of hope dawning in her eyes. The pain that had appeared while telling the truth had nearly faded from her eyes. She was hoping again. Sometimes he had worried about her sanity. There were times when she would begin believing that Erik wasn't truly dead and would begin packing to return to the Opera House. Only with gentle convincing was he able to remind her of Erik's death and burial. She would end up coming her to senses and weeping for the rest of the day.

"Christine…it isn't…" He trailed off as she stood up and shook her head.

"You've told me for years that Erik is dead." Raoul was silent for a moment as the name echoed around his head. It hadn't been spoken for years. It was always implied but never spoken.

"He isn't." She said as she looked out a window and was suddenly transported back to the day when she buried the man she loved.

"I walked down the lonely path into the fifth cellar. The cold, the dark and the lack of noise made me feel tiny as mouse. My boots made no sound on the wet stone except for a slight patter.

"Upon arriving at the place where Erik told me meet him, I found a shallow hole with rotting body lying in it. I held my nose as I studied the form. It looked different then I had expected. The body was shorter than it should have been and fatter too.

"But, I didn't pay any attention to that at the time. I was too wrapped in my grief. But, ever since then, I have wondered if that body was really Erik's. It was all wrong." She said as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"I now know he isn't dead! Raoul, you have been very kind to me for the past nine years. You have taken care of a girl who is not your own. You have loved her dearly. But, I think it's time I leave. Tell those who ask anything they want to know. I don't care what."

She walked up towards the door but stopped before she walked out. "Find someone else, Raoul. Find someone else." It was utter silence for a moment before hurrying out of the room.

Her footsteps led her up to her daughter's room where she found the girl sitting on her bed, wrapped in music that seemed like magic. Christine's ears pounded with it and soon she felt like she was flying. Her eyes locked on a solitary figure, standing on the balcony when a violin tucked into the crook of his neck.

The bow flew across the strings and Annabelle's eyes were focused completely on the man. Christine took a few steps closer and the violin slowly came to a stop.

The man looked up and his eyes glowed gold from beneath a porcelain white mask. He held out a hand to Annabelle and the girl leapt off the bed and hurried towards him. Her small hand took his long-fingered one and then he looked over at Christine.

She nearly sobbed at the emotions his eyes were giving off. Love, hope, desperation, pain, fear – were all there for the world to see. He removed his hand from Annabelle's and held out to her. He was begging her to go with him. To go away with him. The look in his eyes told her that he didn't expect her to agree. He didn't expect her wish to go with the likes of him.

Christine smiled slightly for the first time since the birth of Annabelle and walked forward, taking his hand in hers. Hope and uncontainable joy filled his golden eyes as he squeezed her hand in his thin one.

Raoul went up to Annabelle's bedroom a few hours later and found it completely deserted. Not a trace was left of his "wife" or "daughter". A note was laying on his "daughter's" pillow and that was all.

The gentry asked him repeatedly if he was looking for his wife and child or if they had been found but he would always reply to the negative. Secretly, he knew better than to look for her. If _he_ had her then there was no finding his "wife" and "daughter". So, he never bothered to look.

But, he kept the note. It was his last memory of Christine and Annabelle. It read:

 _Dear Raoul,_

 _You have been the truest friend a woman could ever have. You have lied for me so many times when you could have easily abandoned me. A lesser man would have. Erik and I will be happy together. We plan to raise our daughter in America. Away from memories here._

 _I will never see you again but I wanted to say this: I'm smiling and laughing. You always wanted that for your gift on Christmas. Yes, I know. I know of lot of things I never said. I am happy. Merry Christmas._

 _Christine Daae_

 _P.S. Erik doesn't have a last name so I am using my father's. He would have been proud._

Raoul folded the letter up and tucked it away.

"I'm glad you're happy, Little Lotte. Merry Christmas."


End file.
